Today My Daddy Touched Me
by Lauralye
Summary: What happens when Daddy misses his little mutant girl? What happens if Daddy is also missing his mind?


Disclaimer: Not mine. Regrettably. However, if they were you would have seen much more Logan/Marie scenes than you did. In light of that, I think a movement should be made and the good people in love with L/R Shipping goodness should over throw Marvel and Give me the license to do whatever the hell I want! Mwahahahahahaha! *crickets heard* or you know, you could just go read. *scuffs toe*  
  
Author's Note: Yep, school's back in session and with the home device being employed by Satan (or maybe Stan Lee) the only way for me to type is here. Ya, bitch if you want, you're just gonna have to get in line. Be forewarned, major angst, guess this is more than a phase like Celestia had hoped. This is a full on preferred genre now. I guess my fluff years will have to wait a while.  
  
Title to be made when Tam figures it out.  
  
* * *  
  
Today my Daddy touched me.  
  
Today he made me cry.  
  
Today my Daddy touched me.  
  
And today I lost another little piece of my mind.  
  
* * *  
  
Jesus I wasn't expecting this. I don't think anyone expected this. Come to think of it I know no one expected this. If they had, it wouldn't have happened.  
  
If they had, I would never have known anything about it in the first place.  
  
But that was the problem, no one in their right mind could have thought of this.  
  
This was cruel and this was insane. And to a mad man it made so much beautiful sense.  
  
Retribution and repentance. Those were words I never would have thought to string together in cohesive logic. That was the problem. Cohesive. I'm not crazy. Not entirely anyway. He is.  
  
Or he was.  
  
Maybe I'm crazy now. I think I must be little bit crazy, actually everyone is, but I think I'm a little farther than most. With them the edge isn't part of their senses. They're never really aware of it's presence. I always know where it is, not that that, in and of itself makes me crazy. It just makes me aware. No, what makes me crazy is my fascination with it. My thoughts about it. I'm not scared of the edge.  
  
I'm downright curious.  
  
Don't get me wrong, sanity is nice, sanity keeps the world in pretty good shape, of course it ain't doing so great right now, but that's all a part of it. But that's for the world. Sanity is something entirely different in my world, a world that, much to my dismay, keeps expanding. Sometimes by desperate choice, sometimes by desperation alone. Sanity, in the world of me is different. What's different?  
  
In my world, Sanity is over rated.  
  
It's a funny thing to say. It's a disturbing thing to think.  
  
Sometimes the voices in my head are so loud that I can't think anything else, and that's ok because I can convince myself that it's not really me thinking that. The worst thing are the nights that the voices are silent. They remain quiet for different reasons, sometimes they have nothing to say, sometimes they're afraid, or have simply faded. The worst type of silence is the one they use to punish me. See, it works both ways. I'm aware of them, but they're also aware of me and it's not something I can control. The professor has hopes of me one day exercising that type of control. Something about 'self-telepathic therapy and astro-physiological construction.'  
  
I don't understand all of it either.  
  
What I do know about it is basically it's kinda like me building a box inside my head that has no opening, no beginning, and no end. There's not a need for a lock because it doesn't open. Somehow, I'm supposed to build a box that doesn't have a beginning, and take the undesirable entities in my head and put them inside the box that doesn't have an opening.  
  
I told ya', I don't understand it either.  
  
I do know that the people inside my head are different people than the ones they started out being though. The people in my head are like children at first, incomplete. Basically the solidified characteristic of the poor unfortunate idiot whose touching me at the time. If they're scared then the aspect of them that is sucked into my head is timid at first, as though it's the only part of them that ever existed in the first place. If they're determined then in my head they seem to be single-minded at first, etc.  
  
But they change.  
  
Just like in real life, people grow, they change. It's the same with the people sucked into my head. They change, become older, sometimes wiser, sometimes crueler, sometimes softer.  
  
But it's like splitting an atom. If you take half of something and place them in different contexts, then neither half is going to be same ever again. They become different, independent of one another.  
  
It's like that with the people in my head.  
  
He's in there too. The last person I ever wanted to see again is now a permanent resident in my oh-so-twisted little skull.  
  
He's talking to me even now, telling me he loves me and he's sorry and that Mama would have wanted us to be together. Except Mama is dead now and it drove him crazy and in his twisted head this was the solution.  
  
And I don't know if I can take it. Because he didn't want me, no one wanted me until Logan, until the Professor and now I've got a lunatic inside my head. A real live, honest to God, lost-his-damn-mind lunatic.  
  
Who just so happens to be the man I used to call my father.  
  
Welcome home Daddy.  
  
Author's note: Okay, this could very well be a full blown story, this could also be a ficclet. No you don't get to decide what it is, time and the luxury of my schedule decides that. Just lemme know what you think. 


End file.
